


The Quidditch World Cup

by Yatorihell



Series: In The Darkness [36]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, ノラガミ | Noragami
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatorihell/pseuds/Yatorihell
Summary: The trio go to the Quidditch World Cup, and dark forces begin to move.Thank you Gio (the_musical_alchemist) for beta-ing me <3





	The Quidditch World Cup

When Hiyori found the Quidditch Cup Final was this weekend, Yato grinned slyly. She would be going home in a few days, why not make the most of the time they had left?

“You wanna go?” Yato asked. He didn't need an answer; Hiyori’s shining eyes were enough for him to turn and persuade Yukine into an impromptu trip.

On the day of the final, Hiyori practically jumped on Yato wake him up. He startled awake and pulled his duvet up to cover what dignity he had as Hiyori shook his shoulders and called his name. The room was permeated by a dusky sunrise, sending a sliver of light onto Yukine’s bundled duvet where he groaned at the racket.

“Yukine, let’s go!” Hiyori called. She kicked her legs free of her own sleeping bag which had entangled her, half-falling on Yukine as she shook him.

Yato grumbled, pushing himself up and rubbing his face. It was too early for this. He slumped forward, watching Hiyori bustle to her neatly folded clothes she’d laid out the night before and scoop them up.

“Get up, we’re going in an hour.” Hiyori was out of the door before either of the boys could say _‘good morning’_ or _‘five more minutes’_.

Yukine didn’t let this stop him from flopping back into his pillows with a muffled whine.

“Remind me, why did I agree to this?”

“Because you have a soft spot,” Yato yawned.

Yato turned his head and reached for the cover of Yukine’s duvet, pulling it to the floor in one swift movement.

Yukine shouted. Yato waved his hand, detangling his legs from his sleeping bag. “I have a feeling that Hiyori won’t go as easy on you if you aren’t dressed in five minutes.”

Yukine muttered something under his breath, but he knew Yato had a point.

Groggily getting dressed and wandering down to the kitchen where Hiyori was pouring orange juice, the boys prepared their backpacks. Hiyori’s own was stuffed and ready next to the front door as if she were going on an expedition – Yato could tell she’d packed for one.

Within the hour the trio were out of the front door, blinking in the startling sunlight which warmed them in the early morning breeze.

“So, how do we get there?” Hiyori asked. She walked backwards as she talked, grin plastered on her face as she held her backpack straps.

“Portkey,” Yukine said. When Hiyori looked at him quizzically, he explained, “something that takes you somewhere when you touch it.”

Hiyori _‘ahh-ed’_ , spinning back to walk normally. “Is there a Portkey around here?”

“On the hill, away from the Muggles,” Yukine said. He directed their attention up a small country road which looked more like an overgrown trail. After a steady uphill trek they came to a flat space.

Yukine jogged up, Hiyori and Yato following closely with clattering of pots and pans in their bags which had been able to fit thanks to an extension charm Yato put on all of their bags. Only when they reached the spot where Yukine had stopped did they find an object at his feet.

A boot.

Hiyori looked at it, and then at Yukine. “What’s this?”

“A Portkey.”

Hiyori looked at Yato as if he had gone mad. “It’s a boot.”

“Portkeys are disguised as boring things so Muggles won’t touch them,” Yato explained. He knelt on the ground and Yukine followed suit. Hiyori perplexion only grew.

“What are you doing?”

Yato looked up at Hiyori, and then at Yukine with a sly grin. “We’re going to use the Portkey.”

“Have you ever used a Portkey?” Hiyori folded her arms, not looking convinced as Yato’s and Yukine’s hands hovered over the boot.

“No,” Yukine said, but Yato simply shrugged.

“A few times,” Yato wiggled his fingers over the boot, “do you want to go or not?”

This was enough to prompt Hiyori – although reluctantly and feeling foolish – to kneel beside Yato, hand outstretched to grab the toe of the old leather boot.

Yato placed his hand on it first, followed by Yukine and then Hiyori as dust picked up around them and grew into a whipping breeze that forced them to close their eyes. the ground shifted and the world came back spinning with a dizzying light as they opened their eyes.

Hiyori’s shrill scream filled the air as they fell, spiralling out of control into nothingness, not able to make out where they were.

Yato grinned at her. “Let go!”

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!” Yukine shouted back.

“Trust me, let go!”

And they did.

The wind whipped Hiyori’s clothes and hair. She didn't know where she was, but she was falling. When she'd finally righted herself the first thing that greeted her was an expanse of orange sky, fiery and warm as if set alight by dragon fire.

The sight would've stolen her breath if it wasn't for the realisation that she was feather light; at the mercy of gravity which was bringing her back to earth at an alarming rate.

A hand grasped her own from behind. She turned her head, hair whipping around her face making it hard to see that it was Yato who was steadying her with an amused grin. The wind followed through his dark hair, his parted fringe allowing her to see his eyes lit up in exhilaration.

"Walk with me!"

The words were nearly snatched out of his mouth by the wind, but Yato caught hold of Hiyori's other hand and guided her. Hiyori looked back down, her feet dangling alongside Yato's, but he appeared to be walking through the air as if taking a leisurely stroll.

Hiyori straightened her legs and mimicked him, pretending she we're walking on solid ground. Their momentum slowed as they fell into large strides, looking over the fields where a forest of multicoloured tents and banners splayed across the countryside.

Hiyori grinned, tilting her chin to look back at Yato, silently thrilled.

Yato returned her look, the grin still plastered all over his face. "You're a natural!"

The ground came closer until their feet skimmed the grass, setting down gently as they reached the ground. Their arms dropped, but still Hiyori’s fingers stayed laced with Yato who stood close behind her, heart hammering out of her chest despite the elated grin on her face.

“Told you to trust me.” Hiyori could hear the smile in Yato’s voice as he let go off her hands and stepped away.

Hiyori flushed. Maybe she should trust him more often.

“Thanks for nothing.”

The pair turned in surprise at the voice.

Yukine lay flat on his back like starfish, head raised just enough to look at the pair. “I’m alive, if anyone cares.”

Yato grinned, letting go of Hiyori’s hand to walk to Yukine’s side and offer his own hand, pulling him up roughly with a slap on the back. “You’re fine.”

“No thanks to you,” Yukine shot back. “ _’Let go!’_ , of what? My life?”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Hiyori said, hoping that her cheeks weren’t too red.

“If I have a pretty boy to hold my hand and walk me down then yeah, I’ll learn in no time.” Yukine said under his breath. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or disappointed that neither of them heard this.

Their walk shortly took them to the edge of the campsite before they delved into the jungle of mismatched tents and teepees. They weaved in between the laundry lines and small campfires that had been set up outside the tents. Hiyori stared at a family of six who sat outside a tiny tent, wondering how they all managed to fit inside.

Her silent question was answered once they were in the heart of the campsite and Yato shrugged off his backpack and began to pull out a variety of items. He pulled out a tarpaulin, as well as his wand. With a chant, Yato flicked his wrist and the fabric came to life, folding itself into a perfectly pitched tent.

Yato wiggled his eyebrows at her with a grin as he pulled the tent flap open. Yukine entered with Hiyori following suit, but not before giving Yato a strange look.

Hiyori ducked her head as she entered, expecting Yukine to be face to face with her. Instead, a vast space greeted her.

Squashy sofas and velvety curtains were draped around the room, parted just enough for the window in front of her to show the multicoloured flags of their neighbours. A small table and kitchenette lay to her right, whereas green, red and yellow curtains on the left showed that there were bedrooms for each of them. Soft rugs lay underfoot and fluffy cushions were piled in the corner beside a bookcase that Yukine had wandered over to, thumbing through the books in interest.

Hiyori stood open-mouthed, taking in the impossible science of such a big space inside of a small tent. She felt Yato’s hand on the small of her back guiding her into the tent, and his words low in her ears. “Welcome to your new home.”

Yato steered Hiyori into the middle of the room before going off to his own room, returning a moment later without his backpack. Hiyori watched as Yukine flopped down on one of the sofas, putting his feet up and dumping his bag beside him whilst Yato rummaged in the kitchen.

“We’ll eat then we’ll go and get a good spot,” Yato was saying, voice muffled as his head was practically in the cupboard. Hiyori sat on the sofa opposite Yukine, head never staying still as she marvelled at the high tented ceiling and the lanterns that lit the room.

Yato popped his head around the door and Hiyori’s eyes darted from his face to the packet of animal crackers he held in his hand. “If that’s okay with you?”

“S-sure,” Hiyori nodded.

Yukine just gave a thumbs up before throwing his arm over his eyes, and soon enough, he was snoring.

 

~

 

The Quidditch World Cup was held once every four years. This year it had come down to France and Ireland to vie for the title.

A stadium had been erected not too far from the camp, white spotlights drowning out any darkness that the damp summer night brought.

Hiyori ran up the stadium steps, weaving through the revellers sporting luminous green face paint which made their faces shine as if they were about to be ill, and vivid blue that made the rowdier fans look like Scottish warriors.

Yato and Yukine wheezed as they followed her to the highest stands. They argued that the lower stands were better, but Hiyori wanted to see everything – and there was probably less of a risk of being hit by a Bludger.

Once they were packed closely together in one of the higher tiers, Yato spotted Kazuma and Bishamon a few rows below them, seemingly having come to the World Cup together. From his vantage point Yato could see they were supporting opposite teams: Kazuma with an Irish leprechaun hat, and Bishamon with blue streaks in her hair.

He watched as Bishamon leaned closer to Kazuma to shout something over the ruckus only for Kazuma to jump back before moving in closer until they were shoulder to shoulder, his face practically touching Bishamon’s.

Yato frowned. _Are they making out?_

This thought was interrupted by a burst of colour overhead and a thunderous cheer going up from the crowd.

Green light showered down and fizzled in the sky before another burst shot up, this time the colours morphing into a leprechaun doing an Irish jig.

Yato smiled. He looked at Hiyori who had cupped her hands over her mouth to whoop and cheer, with Yukine less enthusiastic beside her.

Movement shot up and across the stadium; flowing emerald robes announced the arrival of the Irish Quidditch team with a roar of approval from the crowd. They had completed a full circuit of the pitch and dove back down to the referee who waited below as another bang cracked the air.

This time a haze of blue stained the sky. No fancy dancing mascot, just a loud thrumming beat that shook the stadium. Yato realised after a second that it was the stadium itself, the rhythmic stamping of thousands of people in unison and a battle-like cry that went up when the French team emerged.

Hiyori had done her homework. She pointed out each team member, babbling names too quick for Yato catch before she squealed and grabbed Yato’s arm in excitement.

“That’s the youngest Seeker in the world! Belgium's Manabu!”

Yato followed Hiyori’s finger to a blur of pastel blue before the crowd rippled and shifted, a camera trained on said Seeker so that his movements were displayed to the entire stadium. He reared his broom and paused. He had dark hair and warm eyes, a smile plastered on his face as he waved to the roaring crowd which joined into one voice shouting his name.

Yato felt a scowl creeping onto his face as Hiyori joined in with the chanting crowd.

“He's probably only a few months younger than me,” Yato pouted.

“Jealous,” Yukine coughed.

Yato shot him a glare. _So what if Manabu is the youngest Seeker? I’m probably much better than him._

He didn’t hear the announcer’s projected voice commence the game, quietly thinking to himself about how he could probably replace Manabu if he tried.

His eyes slid to Hiyori whose smile hadn’t left her face as she watched the teams ready themselves. The balls were released, leaving the teams tearing into each other in a bid to steal the Quaffle. Only then did Yato drag his eyes away from Hiyori, hoping that he might be able to enjoy the game despite Yukine’s comment ringing in his ears.

His attention flicked between players, catching every steal and Bludger that sent a player spiralling out of control before they caught themselves and dove straight back into the game.

It felt like one of the longest games Yato had every watched – well, tried to watch. The only thing he could hear was Hiyori shouting for Manabu’s victory and Yukine cussing loudly at every French player that zipped past them.

Hiyori leaned so far over the railing that Yato’s fingers twitched at every lunge she made to catch glimpses of the teams as they passed, restlessly watching her more intently than the game itself in case he had to grab her jacket if she pitched too far.

Yato started to notice that she seemed to be focusing on Manabu, her head following his every move as he pursued the Snitch.

He shook his head as Yukine’s voice whispered in his ear:

_‘Jealous.’_

_I’m not jealous_ , Yato told himself.

Yato took a breath and stared straight ahead. The tightness in his chest only grew when he heard the crowd roar, the same thrumming beat reverberating as Manabu sealed France’s victory, and Hiyori beside him cheering.

_I’m not jealous._

 

~

 

Yato was quiet on the way back to the tent – not that they noticed as Hiyori and Yukine argued about the fairness of the game.

“It’s rigged,” Yukine said bitterly.

“You’re just jealous,” Hiyori stuck her tongue out at Yukine before nudging her head at Yato who walked on her other side. “I bet Yato’s jealous too.”

Yato snapped out of his trance, tuning in to the final part of conversation. _Did he really seem jealous of Manabu?_

He stuttered for a second before managing to spit out a pathetic answer. “I’m not jealous!”

Hiyori had a smirk on her face. “Well, you weren’t cheering for France.”

“Oh…” Yato realised what she meant. “Well, I don’t really support those teams…”

Yukine scoffed. “You don’t need to, just pick a side and scream at the opposition.”

Yato shrugged.

The trio made their way back to the tent, changing into dry clothes and dragging brushes through their hair where the wind has teased it into tangles.

Yukine curled up in the windowsill with a book, feet tucked under a cushion to keep them warm whilst another kept him propped up.

Yato flopped on the sofa with a groan. He tucked arm behind his head and shut his eyes, listening to Hiyori shuffling around and humming softly. Before long, he was asleep.

 

~

 

A loud bang woke Yato from his doze. He shot up with a gasp, tense and wide-eyed.

“It’s just fireworks,” Hiyori’s voice sounded from behind him.

Yato looked around, finding her stood with a hand on the back of the sofa with a smile. Yato’s eyes followed Hiyori as she moved away to the kitchen.

Another bang rang out followed by screams and Yato jumped. It didn’t sound like fireworks, and the screams that followed told him that they weren’t from revellers who had been out celebrating.

He swung his legs off the sofa and moved quickly to the tent door where an orange glow shone through the canvas. He pulled it open slightly to peek outside.

Complete carnage met him.

An inferno had engulfed the tents a few rows back, leaving a herd of people stampeding away from the fire which had begun to spread to the neighbouring tents. Thick smoke billowed from the top of the teepees which had begun to collapse in on themselves, sending embers flying up into the night which had ceased its evening shower, allowing the fire to grow into a deafening roar and light the sky like a flaming sunrise.

Yato’s blood ran cold. His mouth was dry as he rounded back into the tent, managing to get out his words oud enough for Hiyori and Yukine to hear.

“We have to go!”

Yukine looked up from his book whilst Hiyori stood in the middle of the room holding a bundle of clothes. She peered around Yato at the open flap, frowning at the pitched screams and orange flickering which outlined Yato’s terrified face.

“Yato, what’s wrong?”

“NOW!”

Yato rushed forward and pulled Yukine up from the curtained window, dropping his book in the process. His protests went ignored as Yato grabbed Hiyori’s hand as he unceremoniously dragged them outside to the spreading carnage.

Yukine cursed under his breath, going unheard by the cracks of tents as they collapsed under the strain of the stampeding crowd and fires taking claim of the campsite. Screams made it nearly impossible for them to hear each other except from Yato’s shout of ‘ _Portkey!’_ before they were swept away in the crowd.

Shoulder, hands and bags smacked into them, no doubt leaving bruises as they muscled their way through the crowd, hands keeping vice-like grips as the crowd threatened to tear them apart. All sense of direction was lost as Yato crane this head, looking for an escape from the crowd and the enclosing fire.

His bearings came too late as a rough shove had him stumbling forward, hand losing its grip on Yukine’s hand and his fingers sliding from Hiyori’s as they were separated by the never-ending stream of people running for their lives.

Yato spun around gasping. Where Yukine had been seconds before was a wailing child who was swiftly taken from view by a woman who tucked the child to her bosom before fleeing. Yato looked around helplessly.

“YUKINE!”

It was far too dark to make out any faces that weren’t lit by the flickering embers of fire – even with light, Yukine was far too short to make out through the mass that surrounded him, pushing him away from where he had lost his friends.

“HIYORI!” Yato shouted. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he could almost hear her shout his name back as he tried to push back against the crowd.

He shouted again.

Nothing.

Rough hands pushed him backwards despite his desperate pleas, forcing him back like a tsunami devastating everything in its path.

Fireballs exploded around them, completely obliterating what little remained of the campsite and prompting the crowd to grow wilder, pushing and shoving and trampling everything and everyone under foot as they made a bid to escape.

Yato shouted for his friends as he was swept away, even though he knew all hope of finding them was gone. His ears rang with every blow he received from the relentless crowd until the world spun into a glow of amber and black.

The ground met him abruptly. Dazed, Yato lay still for a moment, feeling the boots kick his sides and trample his hands as if he was dirt. He raised his head weakly, Hiyori’s name on his lips.

A boot connected with his temple, and all was dark.

 

~

 

Yato woke under a starless sky. Light from the clouded half-moon permeated the wisps of smoke that leaked across the silent campsite, devoid of all life as its occupants fled the terror that had rained down on them.

Yato coughed once. He felt numb, not feeling his body except for the pain which cut into him as he found his feet. Ash coated his clothes in a filthy layer and lined his throat, chokign him as he called out for someone, anyone.

A hot lump rose in his throat as Yato looked around. The campsite had been reduced to tented skeletons that had twisted into molten heaps and tattered fabric where small fires devoured the leftovers of the inferno.

He was alone.

Or so he thought.

A shout rang out behind him and Yato turned stiffly at the word that had been uttered:

“ _Morsmordre!_ ”

Violent green exploded in the sky and, in the next instant, the cloudy image of a skull appeared. It shimmered with lighter green hues that were no less repulsive than the serpent that slithered out of the skulls mouth, fangs bared as it crept across the sky in search of prey.

Yato felt himself go white. Bile rose in his throat and a throbbing filled the forefront of his mind as he stared at it. That was….

A half-shout, half-scream echoed through the wasteland.

“Yato!”

The throbbing left his head in an instant. Spinning around he saw a blur of motion hurtling his way, hair flying out behind her and a face that made Yato freeze.

Hiyori.

She stumbled over charred wood, clothes as ashen as her face which had tear trails running through the muck.

Yato couldn’t make his legs move; the only faltering steps he could take were outmatched by Hiyori’s pace as she flung herself at him with such force that Yato had to wrap his arms around her to keep them from pitching back.

“Yato!” Hiyori sobbed, face buried in the crook of his chest, arms wound tight around his neck.

Yato pushed down the dry lump in his throat, trembling fingers running through Hiyori’s hair and catching on the knots that had formed. His arm squeezed her waist tightly, a reassuring hug as Hiyori cried into his jacket.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Yato whispered into her shoulder.

“Yato…” a voice croaked. Yato looked up from Hiyori’s shoulder. Relief washed through him at the sight of Yukine – blond hair now grey with ash – standing in front of him, reaching out.

Yato opened up one of his arms, inviting Yukine to throw himself into the clustered bodies and bury himself against Hiyori and Yato.

“What happened?” Yukine asked. His voice was muffled, but Yato could tell his voice was breaking with emotion.

“I don’t -,” Yato started, but a chorus of chants rang out which cut his sentence short.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

The first shots missed their targets, but the others never landed as Yato dragged Hiyori and Yukine to the ground as cracks and bangs and flashes of light hit the space where they had been standing seconds ago.  

Hiyori’s sob muffled against Yato’s shoulder, not raising her face to see who was attacking them whereas Yato and Yukine watched wide-eyed at the figures encircling them.

Yato tightened his grip on Hiyori and Yukine, the sick feeling in his stomach threatening to rise as he looked back at the mark that illuminated the sky.

_They weren’t… they couldn’t…_

“Stop!”

A roar turned the attention of the figures who directed their wands behind the trio. In the darkness Yato could make out the barrelling figure of a man, closely followed by someone smaller as they raced in front of them and spread their arms out to shield them.  

Yato blinked. “Professor Daikoku?”

The man turned his head to look over his shoulder, expression softening with worried eyes as he regarded the huddled group.

Hiyori raised her head, expression mirroring Yato’s and Yukine’s as they looked at their former teacher protecting them.

The shorter person, a woman, turned her head next and caught Yato off-guard.

“Madame Kofuku?”

“It’s ok,” she said softly, voice contrasting the hard expression she wore on her face as she and Professor Daikoku turned back to the offending party, arms dropping to their sides.

“Which of you conjured it?!”

Yato looked in between Professor Daikoku’s at the person who was speaking. He was thin with a beaten face, pencil-thin moustache on his face, wand gripped tightly in his hand which moved between each of them in turn in an erratic fashion.

“They’re kids!” Professor Daikoku growled. He gestured around at the carnage. “How could they have done this?!”

Madame Kofuku’s voice followed, lighter than her partners but no less harsh. “You know as well as I do that the Dark Mark was cast by the Death Eaters.”

Yato felt his heart miss a beat. _Death Eaters. They were the ones who attacked the camp. And they…_

Yato looked back up at the sky where the Dark Mark was fading as if nothing had happened. His mouth went dry as he pointed at the spot where he thought the person had stood.

“I heard someone, over there…”

The man’s head snapped to look at the spot where Yato was pointing before back to him, suspicion evident. After a second of self-deliberation he ordered his men to follow him, black cloaks billowing behind them and wands at the ready.

Madame Kofuku and Professor Daikoku turned to the group as they unsteadily rose to their feet, hands gripping each other’s.

“What’s the Dark Mark?” Hiyori, hands and voice shaking, asked.

Yato looked at the ground as Professor Daikoku answered in a grim voice.

“It’s the mark of the Sorcerer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boi. Are we getting jealous, Yato?  
> I wonder who conjured the Dark Mark...


End file.
